


Little White Lies

by wickedarcher_08



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blowjobs, Bondage, Bottom Louis, Branding, Breathplay, Canon Compliant, Choking, Coming Untouched, Daddy Harry, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom Harry, Dom/sub, Edgeplay, Face-Fucking, Humiliation kink, M/M, Marking, Pain Kink, Praise Kink, Punishment, Slight degradation kink, Spanking, Sub Louis, Subspace, Top Harry, daddy!harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 12:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18778174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedarcher_08/pseuds/wickedarcher_08
Summary: Louis makes an off hand comment in an interview then comes home to find Harry has laid his old braces out on their bed.Or the one where Harry spanks Louis with his braces___________If this room was burningI wouldn't even notice'Cause you've been taking up my mindWith your little white lies, little white lies





	Little White Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovlies!!! This all started because Louis called his braces 'tragic' in an interview! Well someone said that they wish Harry would spank Louis with them to teach him a lesson, and I had to write about it. Also, Kami (@teletubbielouis) created all of these AMAZING manips for this story. She is so fkn talented it's unfair. Go follow her on ALL platforms if you're not already. 
> 
> Shout out to my some of my best friends Dana edited this for me so it could go up quickly. Zoe couldn't cos she is busy writing her own amazing one shot!! And Ashley gave me feedback on the BDSM part cos the thought of making something unrealistic has me cringing. 
> 
> ALSO please do not try any of this without talking to your partner first. Communication and consent is key to a trusting BDSM relationship. Enjoy! xx

Louis is feeling exhilarated after a great interview where he was asked fan questions. Harry was there, as always, watching from the side, giving him encouraging smiles as he answered questions. He is always so supportive, and Louis couldn’t ask for a better husband to build his life with. He thought it was strange when Harry slipped out early, but figured he just had a work call he needed to attend to. Louis walks through the entryway of their home, glancing around for any sign of the younger man. 

“Harry! Are you here?” Louis asks, hanging his keys on the hook and toeing off his shoes. The quiet that answers him almost feels eerie. He knows his husband is here, he would have texted him otherwise. Louis goes further into the house, looking in the living area and kitchen before he makes his way upstairs, finding no signs of his curly haired husband, even if his curls are much shorter now. 

“Harry?” With slow, measured steps, Louis makes his way into their bedroom. The large room is dim, only the lamp on the bedside table serving as any type of illumination. He knows that he turned it off before they left. He is sure of it. His crease in his brows deepen in confusion when he sees something laying on the bed, certain he didn’t leave anything there earlier. As he gets closer to the bed, he can make out more details of the item, long and a dark maroon colour. It looks familiar, but he still isn’t sure what it is. 

“What the fuck?” Louis asks, to no one in particular, running his finger down the dark red material of the braces. He hadn’t seen them in years. They had been buried deep inside their closet, never to see the light of the day again, along with Harry’s blazers and bowties. It’s just sort of weird that they are laying out on the bed after he talked about them in an interview today. It was really the first time they had been brought up in years. He had completely forgotten about them, but apparently his husband hadn’t. 

“Did you miss them?” Louis’ head snaps up at the sound of Harry’s voice coming from the bathroom. He knows that tone, a shiver going down his spine and straight into his hardening dick. Harry is wearing exactly what he was dressed in earlier, dark trousers and a dark button down shirt. He decided against wearing his normal clothes, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He still looks incredibly sexy, and the fact that he is still wearing his shiny dress shoes turns Louis on even more for some reason. Fuck. Louis is getting distracted. Harry asked him a question, and he needs to answer. 

“Fuck no. They were horrendous,” Louis responds, finally, his voice coming out high and breathy, looking back at the braces laid out on the bed, presumably by his husband. He isn’t sure what Harry is getting at, but he thinks it could be fun. Harry is still walking slowly towards Louis, an almost predatory look in his green eyes, making Louis feel almost raw and exposed even though he is still wearing all of his clothing. His body feels hot and his breathing has shallowed substantially. He feels like his answer was defiant, but he can’t for the life him understand why or how. 

“I believe the word you used today was ‘tragic’,” Harry says, using four long ringed fingers to quote the final word. He sounds pissed, and Louis shivers in anticipation. Harry is looming ever closer, his body tall and strong, radiating power. Louis wants to whimper, but he won’t. Not yet. 

“That’s ‘cause they were,” Louis insists, hissing when Harry presses his hard body against Louis’ back. Louis moans when he feels Harry’s hard dick straining against his arse. He can feel Harry’s breath on his neck, but he isn’t touching him with his hands. That is real tragedy. Louis freezes when Harry reaches around him, watching as he slowly picks up the dark red braces with intent. 

“You know these are quite special to me,” Harry starts conversationally. Louis’ eyes snap to Harry’s, but Harry averts his gaze, looking down at the braces that look small in his large hands. Fuck. Louis licks his lips, wanting desperately to suck on those fingers, feel them between his lips. His attention snaps back to Harry full lips when he continues, his tone still conversational, “I fell in love with you while you were wearing these. You called them ‘tragic’ and said you wish we would have told you.” 

“They are tragic, and you should have told me,” Louis maintains, meeting Harry’s eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. He knows what Harry wants him to do, and Louis will not. Not yet. Harry has to earn it. Harry has always been up for the challenge before, and Louis’ dick twitches at the thought, his jeans feeling almost painful as they constrict it. Louis moves his hands to relieve some of pressure, when Harry grabs his wrist. 

“I didn’t tell you that you could touch yourself. You’ve already been bad, and now you’re just pushing it,” Harry says, his deep voice slamming into Louis like a fucking geyser, hot and hard, making him want to squirm. He bites his lips to suppress the urge, wanting to continue their bantering. Harry’s hand around his wrist makes him feel even smaller somehow, the long digits almost wrapping around themselves the rope tattoo etched into his skin to match Harry’s anchor displayed under his rolled up sleeves. Harry holds him down when Louis is floating. 

“How have I been bad?” Louis asks, squinting his eyes at Harry, the look challenging. Harry’s full red lips shape into a smirk, and Louis’ knees want to fucking buckle. Harry will never not be devastatingly sexy to Louis. They have been together for eight years. He has seen Harry transform from a skinny self conscience boy to a strong confident man. Louis feels honored to have witnessed it, to have been a part of it, and he couldn’t be prouder. 

“Do you know why I picked his particular pair out of the dozens you wore. Hmm?” Harry asks, and Louis is a bit surprised by the question. He was expecting Harry to tell him all the reasons why he was bad today. Louis must admit, never outloud of course, that sometimes he says things during interviews to rile Harry up. He was edged for hours the time he said that his and Harry’s relationship was built on mutual respect. Louis doesn’t regret it at all. He knew it would get that reaction from Harry, the other man is extremely possessive. 

“No,” Louis answers, the word coming out as more of a squeak when Harry squeezes wrist tighter for a split second before he releases it in order to run the braces along is palm over and over, Louis’ following the movements with hooded eyes. It’s almost mesmerising, and Louis can’t stop the moan that comes from his chest when he pictures his dick in those very same hands. Louis has never in his life been more jealous of a piece of fabric, especially one as tragic as those damn braces. 

“Because I’m gonna make your arse as red as the braces,” Harry responds, eyes dark. Louis’ body trembles at the thought, immediately reacting to the gravely words uttered by his husband. Holy fuck. Louis swallows, glancing down to find the outline of Harry’s hard length pressed against the material. Louis’ mouth waters, wanting desperately to taste the skin confined by the fabric. 

“Yeah?” Louis asks, after clearing his throat, trying to make his voice sound mocking. It doesn’t work because all Harry does is nod with a smirk. Internally Louis swoons, but externally he tries to pretend Harry’s words aren’t affecting him in the slightest. He knows Harry isn’t buying it though. Harry knows him far better than that, and Louis can already feel himself slipping into his role as sub. 

“Yes.” Harry then lays the item back down on the bed. Louis hates himself, but he follows it with his eyes, wondering what Harry is going to do with it. Louis almost whimpers when Harry pulls away taking his body heat with him. Louis closes his eyes, trying to calm himself a bit. When he opens them, he finds Harry has sat himself down on a  _ chair.  _ What the fuck? Where did that come from? Louis was so enamored with Harry and the braces he didn’t even realise Harry had sat a chair there. 

“What are you doing?” Louis asks, knowing the question will probably increase his punishment, but what can Louis say, he likes to be punished. He likes the pain. He gets off on it. They have been together for eight years, it’s not shocking that they have explored their sexual relationship. For the longest time, Louis would deliberately try to be a menace during interviews or on stage to tempt Harry into ‘punishing’ him. It turned Harry on just as much as it did Louis, so nine times out of ten, the would end up fucking roughly in their dressing room backstage. Sometimes they wouldn’t even make it that far, finding a somewhat secluded corridor for Harry to shove Louis against. 

“I didn’t say you could ask a question,” Harry chastises. Louis can almost hear the tsking in his tone, making Louis want to bow his head in shame. He knows he isn’t supposed to ask questions. Harry leans back on the chair, draping his arm over the back and widening his legs. Louis wants to drop to his knees between them, but Harry is looking at him, intent in his green eyes, almost as if he is waiting for Louis to do something. Louis has no idea what, and that bothers him more than he wants to admit. 

“What are you waiting for?” Harry asks, disappointment lacing his tone while he moves his hand in a slow circle, as if trying to hurry Louis up. Louis has no idea what he is talking about though, but Louis feels like he is going to jump out of his skin at the thought of disappointing Harry. Fuck what does Harry want him to do? Louis looks around, not really finding anything, and turns back to Harry to find him staring at him. Louis’ mouth his open, tears welling in his eyes at the idea of not knowing how to please him. Fuck. 

“I-- I…” Louis stammers, unsure of what he was even planning to say. Maybe an apology for disappointing Harry. Maybe something defiant. Maybe he was just going to ask what Harry wants even though he isn’t supposed to be asking questions at all. Harry is still looking at him though, his expression expectant, and Louis can feel a tear track down his cheek. He looks around again, attempting to figure out what he should be doing but comes up with nothing. Fuck. He feels helpless. 

“Strip.” The word is not a request, but a command, and Louis feels so relieved he now has a task. Strip. He can do that. He has done it a thousand times before. His hands are shaking, his entire body quivering with anticipation as he begins with his socks. It may not be sexy, but has to get them out of the way because it would be even less sexy if he was wearing them with his pants. He hands come up to the hem of his grey jumper, pulling it slowly over his head. His body immediately erupts in chillbumps, the cool air of the room hitting his overheated skin. Next, his nimble fingers find the button of his jeans, slowly undoing them, the zipper following shortly after. He then pushes the material over his bum, letting them fall to the floor, pooling at his feet. They are a lot looser than the jeans he used to wear, so it doesn’t take days for him to get out of them.

“Stop,” Harry says, the word making Louis’ hands, which are currently on the waistline of his pants, freeze. His dick is impossibly hard now, straining against the tight white material. Harry is not faring much better, despite his cool and collect exterior, because Louis can clearly see the outline of his hard length visible against his dark trousers. Harry doesn’t cross his legs to try to cover it though, displaying it proudly instead, long legs framing it. Louis licks his lips, hoping that maybe Harry would allow Louis to suck him off. 

Louis watches with hooded eyes as Harry slowly raises from his seat, placing his hands casually in his pockets. He then begins walking towards Louis with measured steps, his toes barely pointed inwards. Louis isn’t sure he is breathing anymore, and all he wants to do in that current moment is fall to his knees and worship his husband. Fuck. He is so godsdamned beautiful and commanding that Louis is almost positive he is a God. He has to be. 

“Go to the chair and place your hands on the seat,” Harry orders, but Louis can feel his defiant nature coming back to life. It’s a game they play, and Louis pretends he is going to win. He never does, always submitting to Harry, but he likes it. They both like the challenge. It would be no fun if Louis did everything he was told, so Louis stands there, staying rooted in place, letting his hands fall to his sides. He looks up to find Harry glaring at him through squinted eyes. Louis wants to shiver and do as he was told. He doesn’t, though. 

“I said,” Harry begins, a large ringed hand coming up to grip Louis’ hair quickly. So quick, Louis didn’t even see it move because he blinked. His hold is tight, unrelenting, and Louis can’t stop himself from moaning, the pain going straight to his untouched dick. Harry then begins using his hold on Louis’ hair to push him towards the chair, not touching him in any other way. Louis doesn’t bother fighting, his head tilting in the direction Harry is leading him. “Bend over the chair.” Harry then pushes Louis so that he has no choice but to bend over at the hips, curving his spine over the back of the chair so that his palms are supporting his body on the seat. Thank the gods Harry chose a chair short enough for Louis to not be on his tiptoes. 

“You’re such a fucking menace. You probably refuse to accept the reason why you’re being punished right now. Probably refuse to admit your misdeeds,” Harry says, and Louis wants to follow him with his eyes, but Harry pushes his head so that he is looking at the black chair seat. Louis focuses on the ‘28’ etched into his fingers, reminding him of what they continue to fight for. He can’t see Harry, but he knows he is moving. Can hear his deliberate footfalls on the soft carpet. He thinks Harry went back towards the bed, but doesn’t know what he’s doing. 

“You called these an ‘appalling decision’, Louis. I’m very disappointed.” Louis feels exposed even though he is still wearing his underwear, but he is bent over a chair. His skin heats up with Harry’s words. He disappointed him. Fuck. He knew he shouldn't have been that adamant about them during his interview, but he didn’t think Harry was that attached to them. He remembers what Harry had just said, that he fell in love with Louis while he was wearing them. Louis’ eyes sting with unshed tears. No wonder Harry is disappointed. Louis barely resist the urge to look over his shoulder. He figures that Harry is holding the braces again, but he can’t be sure since he can’t see them. 

“Don’t you have something to say to me… hmm?” Harry asks, and Louis hisses when he feels two large palms on his arse, massaging the globes over the material of his pants. Finally. A touch. Louis almost sighs at the sensation. It’s the first time Harry has really touched him since he got home, and he kind of wants to die. Louis still thinks braces are tragic, so he isn’t going to apologise for it yet. He refuses, so he bites his tongue to keep from moaning while Harry’s hands continue to squeeze and knead his flesh. Louis is surprised when one of those large palms lands on one of his cheeks, the sound reverberating throughout the room. “I asked you a question.” 

“No, I do not have anything to say,” Louis responds, trying to keep his tone bored even though his dick is impossibly hard. He will not submit, yet. Harry has to earn that. Harry will, in due time, but nothing fun is ever done without a fight. He takes a moment to chance a glance back as his husband. Harry is seething, his eyes dark and calculating. Louis wants to whimper. He wants to fall into submission and let subspace take him away, but it will be so much better if he fights it. So much more rewarding for both of them. 

That was apparently not the correct way for Louis to answer because Harry smacks his arse again, hard. Louis winces, but the pain quickly transforms into pleasure, coursing through his system, lighting his veins on fire. Fucking hell. “Cheeky,” Harry replies. Louis bites his lips, trying not to moan when Harry delivers three more blows in succession, then goes back to massaging the now painful area. This is nothing, though. Louis can take so much more than this. He has. This is just a warm up, and Louis can’t wait to see how far he can push himself. Harry knows him. He knows that the more he warms Louis up, the easier it is for him to slip into subspace. 

“Always,” Louis says, glancing back at Harry to shoot him a smirk while wiggling his bum at the double entendre. Harry is not amused because he smacks Louis’ arse again, twice, each slap louder then the last, making the skin beneath sting. Louis loves the sound. He gets off on it. He could probably come untouched from the sound of Harry slapping his skin alone. The sound is branded into his brain by now, serving as a backdrop to Louis life, a steady beat. Louis lets out a shocked gasp when Harry roughly pulls down his underwear, leaving them halfway down Louis’ thick thighs, the material cutting into Louis’ skin. 

“You should see your arse. It’s a lovely shade of pink. Not quite the colour I was going for, but we will get there,” Harry tells him, and Louis looks back again over his shoulder, finding Harry’s hand poised, getting ready to deliver another strike. Louis hisses when he sees that Harry has twisted the ‘H’ and ‘S’ rings so that the letters will be pressed into Louis skin, branding him. Fuck. Louis desperately wants to touch himself now, his neglected dick hanging hard between his legs, but if he does that he knows Harry will be unrelenting in his quest to get an apology from Louis about the braces. 

“Fuck. Please,” Louis whispers, the words leaving him on accident. He’s usually not begging yet, but he really wants Harry’s initials imprinted into his flesh. He has since he bought Harry those damn rings a few months ago. That was the very purpose of them, so that when Harry spanked him, he would see the evidence in his initials on his skin for the days to come. Louis’ dick twitches at the thought, precome blurting out. He should have known better than to ask because instead of striking him, like he wants, Harry brings his hands down slowly to massage him again. Louis closes his eyes, pleased with any kind of touch at this point. 

“Do you want my initials branded into your skin? Do you want to look in the mirror and see my mark? For everyone to know who you belong to?” Harry asks, but Louis knows that it’s not a question he wants answered. He does want all of that. He drops his head between his shoulders, attempting to focus on the chair. He can feel himself slipping, Harry’s words and hands doing what they need to. Warming him up and allowing him to slowly shift where Harry wants him to be. Where Louis wants to be. 

“Harry,” Louis starts, the name transforming into a moan when Harry smacks him again, the rings biting into his flesh. Fuck. It stings, and Louis has to blink back tears, the sensations overwhelming. He knows what he did wrong this time, and he knows why he is being punished. He bites his lip, hard, to keep the words he knows Harry wants to hear from tumbling out, the metallic taste of his own blood on his tongue. Harry doesn’t even give him a moment to pause before he is striking his other cheek, the rings feel like they are searing Louis’ skin, as if they were heated by the fires of hell. 

“I’m still waiting for my apology,” Harry says, disappointment lacing his deep voice. Fuck. Louis wants to cry. He can’t keep disappointing him. He just can’t. Not when Harry gave him what he wanted. Branded him. Louis is surprised when he watches a teardrop fall from his face and onto the surface of the chair, splattering directly between his thumb and index finger on his left hand. He hadn’t even realised he was crying, but another one falls soon after, the drop landing on the ‘2’ this time, making the lines warp with refractment. He is stunned it doesn’t sizzle on his overheated skin, evaporating off the surface like rain on a hot day. 

He almost says it then, almost apologises, but he stops himself, allowing the words to die on his lips. He tries to focus on his breathing. Harry’s hands leave him, making him want to whimper. He is afraid to turn around to see what Harry is doing, so he keeps his head bowed, the first move of submission. Harry leaves him in that position for what feels like hours to Louis, but it really could have been seconds. He is getting more worked up by the minute, his dick painfully hard now, his balls aching with need. He closes his eyes, trying to keep his breathing steady. Harry is usually his anchor, but Harry isn’t touching him because he is disappointed. Tears are now falling onto the surface of the chair at much faster rate. 

“What’s your colour?” Harry asks, and Louis feels his body tense with the question. Harry’s voice is soft though, softer than it has been all night. Harry is checking in on him, making sure Louis is okay with this. Louis tries to get his mind to work. He tries to focus on the tears staining the chair, his breathing, his fucking hands. He needs to answer Harry’s question or he will never get what he wants. They also have a safe word, but Louis definitely doesn’t need to use it. 

“Please,” Louis wimpers. It is the only word he can think of right now. He glances back to find Harry holding the braces, some of the length wrapped around one giant palm, making Louis shiver in anticipation. 

“Baby, I need you to tell me your colour,” Harry says, gently. Louis knows that this will not continue until he says it, so he bows his head once more, trying to collect his thoughts. Trying to put into the words the colour he is seeing in his head. He takes a few deep breaths in a failed attempt to steady himself. Right. Colours. He mastered those when he was like four, his mum teaching him. He can do this. He can give Harry his colour. 

“Green. Please. Green,” Louis rushes out, his desired colour finally coming to his foggy brain. Harry doesn’t even give him a chance to breathe after his answer, to brace himself. The irony that Louis needs to brace himself for the braces that strike his already angry skin does not escape Louis. He hisses when Harry delivers another strike, the stretchy material almost moulding to his ass, leaving a mark anywhere that it touches. 

“Count,” Harry commands, the authority back in his tone, brooking no argument. Yes. Count. Louis can do that. That will help him stay grounded because he is definitely slipping. Everything feels fuzzy. He is starting to feel high from the pain. At this point, it’s barely even registering as pain anymore, just pure pleasure coursing through his body, igniting his skin. Counting, just like his colours, he learned when he was four. This should be easy. 

“Two,” Louis responds because that is two not including the smacks delivered by Harry’s hands. He thinks there were maybe seven of those. Louis can’t actually be sure because he has to concentrate on counting now, Harry striking him two more times in succession, pausing between for Louis to say ‘three’ and ‘four’. Louis barely recognises the sound of his own voice when they finally reach ten, high and raspy, taking on an almost whiny tone. 

Louis pants as they take a break, Harry still not touching him. He knows what Harry wants, but Louis still won’t give it to him. Harry has to earn those words. Without warning, Harry strikes again, Louis hissing out a ‘one’ and gripping onto the chair as pleasure rocks his body. He feels like he needs to use it as something to keep him to the earth. Harry keeps the hits measured, the braces staying mostly on the meaty part of Louis’ flesh, not wrapping around his legs or anything. This is the first time they have used this particular item, but Harry must have practiced a bit before Louis got home. That thought makes Louis moan ‘ten’. Harry stops again. Louis can feel him pacing behind him, probably keeping his wrist loose. 

“Are you ready to apologise yet? Hmm?” Harry asks, followed by two more firm hits. Louis counts them, but doesn’t say anything else. His arse is on fire, but he loves it. He loves the pain. He love Harry forcing him to submit. He loves it all, so he breathes through three more blows, the numbers leaving his lips on a breath. 

“You’re such a fucking menace. Always refusing to say what we both know you’re going to.”  _ Smack.  _

“Six.” Louis’ body begins to tremble with the exertion of holding himself bent over, arching his back for more, trying to tempt Harry into a touch. Just a touch. Fuck. 

“When I heard you say it. I was so disappointed.”  _ Smack.  _

“Seven.” The sounds are too much. Harry’s deep voice, his words slow and measured. The whizzing sound the material makes as it slices through the air of the room. The crack of the braces as they meet his now raw skin. The sharp inhales and quick exhales of Louis’ chest. Harry's calm footsteps behind him. He still hasn’t touched him though. Louis wants to cry. 

“I thought. How could he say something like that, knowing what they mean to me?”  _ Smack.  _

“Eight.” The disappointment in Harry’s tone washes over Louis’ skin like hot water, scalding and more painful than the strikes Harry is delivering to his flesh. Louis is now full on sobbing, everything pushing him further and further into the abyss. 

“Now you won’t even apologise for your misdeeds. Won’t even say you’re sorry to me.”  _ Smack.  _

“Nine.” Louis wants to come. He is so fucking close. It hurts more than the braces ever could, but not nearly as much as Harry’s disappointment in him. He watched the fat tears drop down on the the chair, forming a pool of water that Louis will surely drown in. Fuck. Harry is so disappointed in him. He doesn’t deserve to come. 

“Your refusal to do this one simple request shows me that you don’t even want my touch. That you don’t  _ need  _ it. You don’t want my fingers in you, opening you up. You don’t want me splitting you open and claiming you with my come. No. You would rather be bad.”  _ Smack.  _

“Please. Let me come,” Louis pleads instead of saying the word ‘ten’. He doesn’t look at Harry though. He can’t. He knows isn’t deserving of his orgasm. The casual conversation that Harry seems to be holding is driving Louis mad, almost as if Louis isn’t even there, getting his arse spanked. He is just talking, like he would about the weather or about business. 

“You know what to do,” Harry responds, his tone even and cold. It sends a chill down Louis’ spine, making his body quake even more. His muscles are burning from the position, each one tense. He doesn’t know how much longer he can stand here. How much longer he can hold himself up, but he has to. He doesn't want to disappoint him anymore. He can’t. 

“Please, Daddy. I’m so sorry. Please. I’m sorry for calling the braces tragic. Please let me come. P-please,” Louis begs, saying the words Harry has been wanting to hear all along. He is crying harder and finally slipping into submission, like a puzzle piece as it clicks into place. His whole body shakes with his sobs, as he floats where no one can touch him. No one except his daddy. His daddy who hasn’t touched him. 

“Good boy. You did so good for me,” Harry praises, and Louis hisses when Harry’s hand comes to rest on the burning skin of his arse. Louis bathes in Harry’s words, basks in them like the first show of sunlight on a rainy day. Harry is finally touching him, and it feels so good Louis could cry. His orgasm is now closer than ever, but he can’t come with his Daddy’s permission. He won’t disappoint him again. “I’m so proud of you, baby. You can come now.” 

That is all it takes. With his permission, Louis is coming, the force making his previously arched back bow down. His whole body shakes as spurt after spurt of hot come is released from his dick, coating the back of the chair and floor. Louis is crying for a different reason now, completely overwhelmed by the force of his orgasm. He is floating, and Harry is keeping him anchored somehow. That’s all he needs. He is floating. 

 

__________

 

Harry is so glad Louis isn’t looking at him, so he doesn't have to mask the ‘awe’ that takes over his features as he watches Louis come, crying with his release. Well he was crying before, but now they seem like happy tears and not those of shame. Harry continues praising and touching him, petting his bowed back, running gentle fingers along the hot skin on Louis’ arse. His whole body is tense with his orgasm, the muscles in his bum contracting more than all the others as he continues to moan with abandon. The round globes are about the colour of the braces, like Harry had wanted. 

The normally perfect, tan skin is red and angry, welts forming. Harry wants to kiss them. He wants to kiss the penguin Louis got tattooed on it during a drunken dare. He wants run his fingers over the ‘H’ and ‘S’ now embedded in his perfect skin. He will. In time, but for now, he needs to push Louis a little further. He already knows Louis has slipped. He knew the moment the word ‘daddy’ slipped from Louis’ firm lips. The moment he apologised for what he called the braces. His body is slack now, loose and pliant. 

Harry relished in that moment, knowing that he was finally able to make it happen. It alway takes a careful balance of physical pain and mental guidance to get Louis to fall into submission. A lot of people think it is just about the pain, but the physical and mental aspect of their lifestyle are like two sides of the same coin. Both are needed to give it value. Louis isn’t the kind of sub that submits easily, but when it does happen, it is beautiful. More beautiful than an arena full of people singing their songs back at them. It is the most lovely sight Harry has ever beheld, and it is a fucking privilege that Louis allows him to see it. Even in these moments. 

“Stand,” Harry demands, watching Louis scramble to obey, attempting to get his docile limbs to cooperate with Harry’s command. Harry gets some kind of satisfaction from that. He did that. He won Louis’ trust enough for him for to comply to his request. Louis’ body is still trembling, his cock laying limp, but it won’t be like that for long. Not when Harry is done with him. Harry had almost forgot his own impossibly hard length, still painfully straining against his trousers. He hasn’t even undressed yet, too busy trying to gently maneuver Louis over the edge. “Turn.” 

“Yes, Daddy,” Louis responds, slowly turning around on his heels, facing Harry. He has stopped crying, the tears drying on his face. His eyes are still watering and his freckled cheeks are as red as the cheeks on his arse. Louis’ brown fringe is matted to his forehead, a thin sheen of sweat covering his entire body. He looks so fucking beautiful, it hurts Harry’s chest. It makes his body not want to take in air anymore. Harry doesn’t give any of this away though. He keeps his expression neutral as he grabs Louis’ hand in both of his. They are small and delicate. Harry can’t help himself, he brings Louis wrist up to his lips and places a soft kiss directly between the frayed ends of the rope etched into his skin. Louis sighs in response, his lips red from his biting. 

“What’s your colour?” Harry asks, bending to look Louis in his blue eyes. They are glassy, the blue barely showing in a ring around the black or his pupil. Harry keeps his gaze steady, waiting patiently for his husband to collect his thoughts enough to answer the question. Louis typically talks a lot and fast, but when he is starting to slip under, his speech is uncharacteristically slurred, almost as if he is mimicking Harry’s own speech. It freaked Harry out at first, worried for his husband, but he soon figured out that is was a normal result of this. 

“Green, Daddy. Like your eyes,” Louis finally responds, his face morphing into a crinkled smile. Harry wants to return it, but he doesn’t. He keeps his mask of indifference on even though it is more difficult that almost anything Harry has had to do. He bring Louis’ wrists together, using the braces to bind them in front of his body. He places two fingers between the material and Louis’ skin, making sure it isn’t so loose Louis could escape or too tight, cutting off his circulation. The red looks lovely on his tan skin, matching the colour of the heart and diamond in Louis’ card suit tattoo.  

“Undress me,” Harry says, stepping back away from Louis’ body. Louis automatically sways towards him, almost as if he is drawn to him in someway. Harry understands that because stepping away from Louis was so fucking difficult when he is so trusting. Louis looks down at his bound hands then back to Harry, he can see confusion marring his delicate features. Harry wants to pet him and give him more of an explanation, instead, he just gives him an unimpressed look. 

“Yes, Daddy.” Louis slowly brings his bound hands up to the top button of Harry’s shirt. Harry watches him with a neutral expression as he struggles with the first button. His fingers are shaking, and it is hard for him to get a good angle with both hands bound together. He knew this would be the case, that’s why he told him to do it. Louis likes to work for his praise. Just like Harry likes to earn Louis’ trust and submission, Louis likes to earn Harry’s praise. Harry stands straight, keeping his his own hands to his sides, even though they are itching to help Louis. 

“I told you to undress me. What are you waiting for?” Harry asks, allowing disappointment to lace his tone again. He can see a tear in Louis’ eye as he continues to fumble with the material, his hands beginning to shake even more when he can’t seem to push the button through the small opening. Harry has to force his expression to stay neutral, balling his hands into fist at his desire to help Louis. He has to remind himself that Louis likes this. 

“Jesus, Louis. I ask you to do one simple task, and you can’t even manage it,” Harry starts, shaking his head in displeasure. Louis looks like he want to respond, but he doesn’t. Harry watches a tear track down his cheek, the light refracting in the water, obscuring his smattering of freckles as it makes a pathway down. Harry wants to follow it with his tongue. He barely resists the urge to wipe it away. 

“I-I’m sorry, Daddy,” Louis cries. Harry isn’t sure Louis even knows he is crying. When Louis had first started crying during a scene, it scared the ever loving shit out of Harry. Louis never cries however he did, and Harry started panicking. Now he knows it is normal, but he still likes to check in to make sure because he has to take care of Louis. 

“Am I going to have to do this myself?” Harry sighs, bringing his hands up with the the threat. Louis face is red and not just with his tears. The matching tint on his neck and torso tells Harry that he is embarrassed. Harry kind of likes watching it a bit, to see Louis, who is normally bigger than life itself, squirm. 

“No! No! I’m sorry, Daddy. I can do it! I promise. I-I can do it. Please. I c-can,” Louis sobs, his voice taking on a desperate quality that makes Harry’s cock twitch, and his heart hurt. He drops his hands, and a small sigh escapes Louis’ lips in relief. Harry can feel the remnants of it on his chest where Louis’ breathed. Fuck.

“Well get on with it then,” Harry responds cooly, watching Louis through squinted eyes. Louis looks up at him to see his expression, his blue eyes swimming in reservoir of tears. He looks frenzied, his hands shaking so much, Harry wonders if he is going to just rip his shirt. He won’t. He has already been punished for that very same reason in the past, ripping Harry’s very expensive shirts. Harry didn’t really care, honestly, they have the money to buy more, but it was a part of the scene. He did something bad, so he had to be punished for it. The first time, Harry just discipline him, telling him not to do it again. The second time though, he was spanked. 

When Harry releases and exasperated sigh, Louis starts crying hard. Harry is shocked when Louis drops his head to Harry’s chest, the tears immediately soaking into the material making it damp. Harry thinks that he has given up for a split second before he feels something scrape against his bare chest. He looks down to find Louis using his teeth and hands to undo the shirt. Holy fuck. Harry almost chokes, his cock even harder somehow. 

Louis slowly works his way down the shirt, his teeth scraping against Harry’s sensitive skin with each new button released. Harry has to bite his tongue to keep from hissing out a breath, not wanting to confuse Louis while he is in this state. Louis uses his hands to pull the material from Harry’s trousers, the whole thing finally undone. Harry holds his arms back just a bit as Louis pushes the shirt off of him, one shoulder at a time and allows it to float to the floor. Louis waste no time dropping to his knees, the harsh thud of them hitting the carpet filling the room. 

Louis doesn’t even bother using his hands this time, just go straight for Harry’s trousers with an open mouth. Harry can’t stop the groan that escapes his chest when Louis’ hot mouth grazes the head of Harry’s cock through the material, making everything instantly wet. Louis looks up at him through his obscenely long eyelashes, his blue eyes hooded forcing another moan from Harry. Louis deserves it, afterall. Harry looks down just in time to see the button pop from it’s fastening, the sound almost audible in the quiet of the room. 

Harry almost comes seeing Louis kneeled down in front of him, his hand bound and eyes lustful as he uses his teeth to slowly pull down Harry’s zipper. It must be the longest zipper to have ever been zipped because it feels like it takes days for it to hit the retainer box, the sound making Harry’s cock spurt precome onto his pants. Fuck. Harry has to close his eyes or he is going to just finish the job and shove his cock down Louis’ throat. He gave Louis a task, so he can’t take it away from him, regardless of how much he wants to. 

He opens them again when he feels small hands on his legs, yanking one side of his trousers down at a time to pool at his feet. Next, his pants are slowly pulled off his hips, joining the trousers in a pile on the floor, while his cock springs free, almost hitting Louis in the process. Harry steps out of them, toeing off his shoes and socks with the item, pushing it to the side with one foot. Louis moans when Harry fists the soft hair at the back of Louis’ head, and pushes Louis’ head to his cock. Louis opens his mouth obediently, allowing Harry to shove it deep down his throat, forcing Louis to gag. 

Fuck. He needs to open Louis up, or he isn’t going to last. He can see Louis’ own cock is beginning to fatten, the blood rushing to it to bring it back life. He will be hard in no time, and Harry really wants to fuck him already. Without warning, Harry takes a wide step back, then falls to his own knees. Louis makes a sound of protest, but to his credit, he goes with Harry, keeping his mouth firmly on Harry’s cock. Louis is now down low on all fours, his hands together and holding him up as he continues to suck the life from Harry through his cock. 

“You’re doing so good baby. So good for me,” Harry praises, petting Louis back as he reaches for the lube, hoping that the approval will distract the older man. Louis preens at the attention, arching his back and doubling his efforts, swirling his tongue around Harry’s head with every drag then sinking back down on his shaft. Harry closes his eyes for a moment, the sensation of Louis’ mouth on his previously untouched dick almost too much. He takes a few deep breaths, going back to his task. 

“Undressed me so well with your teeth. Not even damaging my clothes. I’m so proud of you,” Harry says, mostly to cover the sound of the cap popping on the lube. He doesn’t think Louis notices because he makes a sound of contentment, his eyes closed as he continues to bob his head, each new thrust going deeper into Louis’ throat. Thank the gods his gag reflex is a thing of the past. So is Harry’s, but that isn’t relevant right now. Harry squeezes a some lube on his fingers, not bothering to rub them together to create warmth. He wants it to be cold. He wants it to be a surprise.

Harry slowly moves his hand to Louis’ exposed hole. He can’t see it from his angle, but it muscle memory at this point. It’s easy to reach with his long arms. He tries not touch the red angry skin on Louis’ arse. He doesn't wanna do that yet. It just looks so lovely though. A perfect show of how much his boy can take. Pride fills his chest at the thought. They have both come a long way. Louis could have taken so much more, but Harry didn’t want to push too much with it being their first time using this particular item. Louis doesn’t think they are all that tragic now, it seems. 

Louis hisses around Harry’s cock when Harry slowly traces his hole with a wet finger. Harry doesn’t do much else, just pushes the tip past the ring of muscle, feeling the vibrations from Louis’ moan as he does so. Louis would probably be talking if it wasn’t for the cock in his mouth. Even when he is on the verge of subspace or even in it, he is mouthy. It’s a slow quiet when they do this, everything gradually falling into place. It usually takes a while to get Louis there, but sometimes Harry does it for the sole purpose of making him drop quickly. He didn't want to do that today, though. 

“I’m gonna open you up then fuck that pretty little red arse of yours. You want that?” Harry asks, knowing full well that Louis can’t answer as he pushes his finger deeper, his ring touching Louis’ rim. Louis arches his back, trying to give Harry better access. Harry doesn't need it though, his arms long enough to accommodate their position. He does wish he had a mirror, though. Maybe next time. He can still kind of see from his vantage point, but not how he wants to. Maybe just film it next time. It wouldn’t be the first time they filmed themselves. 

“Of course you do. You’re filthy. Fucking gagging for it,” Harry tells him, pushing a second finger in along side the first. He can feel Louis wince for a split second before he relaxes again, his mouth not even pausing. He knows it’s quick, but Louis likes this part to be quick. He likes the pain and the burn that comes along with the stretch. Harry knows Louis’ body better than he knows his own. 

“You want me to fuck your ass, still sore from your punishment. You want to feel it again, to remember what you did wrong,” Harry says, now thrusting his fingers, the lube helping the glide. He can see them disappear, the palm of his hand resting on Louis’ back, his tattooed arm lining up perfectly between the dimples at the bottom of his spine, driving Harry fucking crazy. Louis arms are shaking violently now, probably going to give out soon, and Harry doesn't know how much more he can take of Louis’ mouth without coming, so he makes an executive decision then.

Without so much as a mumble of his plan, he grabs Louis’ hair and yanks him off. He barely suppresses a hiss when the cool hair hits his wet shaft. Louis face is red, lips slick and shiny with spit, but his eyes are what makes Harry groan. They are glassy, and he whines as if Harry has taken away a toy. Harry keeps his fingers inside of him as he brings their bodies together. Louis almost falls into him, not able to keep his balance due to his bound hands, but Harry keeps him upright, his body still loose and pliant. Right as Harry brings their lips together in a harsh kiss, he adds a third finger. Louis moans into Harry’s mouth, the sound high and needy. 

“Don’t be fucking greedy,” Harry tells him, breaking their kiss as he shoves his fingers in deeper, still avoiding Louis spot. He can tell Louis wants to moan, but he bites his lips to hold it back. As a reward, Harry’s mouth finds Louis’ collar bones, sucking mark after mark into his skin, branding him again and again over the tattoos that litter the area. He loves it. Loves seeing the remnants of their time together, Louis wearing it most days like a fucking badge, or covering it up during interviews. Harry doesn't know which one is better, them proudly being on display, or knowing the reasons why Louis had to show up wearing a fucking turtleneck.  

“Up,” Harry demands, removing his fingers despite Louis’ attempt to keep them inside of him by chasing Harry’s hand with his hips. Harry taps Louis’ tender ass, his moan filling the room, as he gets to his feet. He doesn’t move to help Louis stand, the other man doing it after two failed attempts since his balance is off. Once Louis is on his feet, swaying just a bit, Harry hooks a finger under the braces, using them to lead Louis towards the wall. Louis doesn’t even so much as put up a fight, his brain fully clicking into submission. Harry could probably lead Louis anywhere and he’d go at this moment. Harry won’t though. He has something precious in his hands, Louis’ trust, and he isn’t about to throw that way. Never. 

Louis glances up at the wall Harry has let him too, eyes widening when he realises what Harry intents to. Harry doesn't say anything, just shoves Louis’ back against the wall, watching the breath leave Louis’ body on impact. He then takes Louis bound wrist, pushing them above his head and fixes the braces to the hook on the wall. It was placed just tall enough to where Louis would have to stay on his tiptoes, never being able to fully relax. They use it often, along with the one hung from their ceiling. Harry stands back to look a him, and almost comes from the sight. Louis’ tan skin is red, bruises in various shade marrying his neck and collarbones. Harry can’t see his ass, but he knows it’s probably a similar colour. His body is somewhat slack, most of his weight being held by the hook and his tip toes. 

Harry continues his silence as he bring their bodies together. Louis’ skin is so hot, he fears he may get burned. He is willing to risk it though. He would risk everything for Louis. He has. Louis doesn’t need any kind of command, a true testament to their relationship. He just uses his upper body strength to lift his legs, hooking them around Harry’s hip. Harry decides to help him, knowing that Louis must be tired, and grabs his thighs with two large hands, supporting most of Louis’ weight in his strong arms. 

“Want me inside of you?” Harry asks, and Louis whimpers in response, biting his lip. Harry just stares at him, squeezing his the flesh under his hands to silently tell him that he wants more than a whimper, so Louis nods. It’s still not enough. Harry wants verbal confirmation. Even when Louis is under like this, communication is important. So he asks again, softer this time. “I need your words, baby. Do you want me inside of you?” 

“Yes, Daddy. Please. Need you inside of me. Please,” Louis begs, a tear streaming down his cheek as the words come out cracked and broken, on the verge of hysterical. That’s all the confirmation Harry needs. He holds Louis with one arm, and uses the other to line himself up with Louis’ already slick hole. After the head is pushed past Louis’ rim, Harry just lets gravity take over, full seating Louis on his cock slowly. Harry can feel Louis’ now hard cock trapped their stomachs, precome already leaking form the tip. Harry knows he isn’t going to last long, so he needs to rush Louis’ second orgasm along. 

“Are you gonna call your braces tragic ever again?” Harry asks, feeling the need to remind Louis why he is being punished. He begins slowly thrusting, his hips coming in contact with the painful skin on Louis’ bare arse with each one, forcing them small man to hiss, but not in pain. His hisses are in pleasure. Harry can tell by the serene look on his face, lust in his eyes. When Louis doesn't answer, Harry starts moving his hips harder and faster, pressing Louis firmly against the wall with each new thrust. “Answer me.” 

“No, Daddy. I won’t. I promise. Never,” Louis finally says, closing his eyes, his body completely slack and pliant now, allowing Harry to take all of his weight, another sign of complete compliance on his part. If he hasn’t dropped before, he is extremely close. He has stopped fighting it, allowing his brain to take over and fully submit to Harry. This turns Harry on, bringing him even closer to his orgasm. Fuck. He needs to push Louis as well. He needs to get him there before this is over.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” Harry tells him, then removes his left hand from Louis’ arse, snaking it up between their bodies. Louis’ eyes pop open at the change, watching Harry’s appendage with wide eyes, his mouth open in a small ‘o’. Harry places his it on his neck, applying just a tiny bit of pressure so Louis’ know’s is there. Louis moans, comprehending Harry’s intentions. Harry keeps his hands there as he continues fucking up into Louis, his pace quick and measured, using strong thighs to propel himself forwards. Thank the gods for leg day. 

“Fuck. Please, Daddy. Please,” Louis begs, and Harry isn’t sure what he is asking for. Louis probably isn’t sure at this point, just rambling because he is close. Not as close as Harry though. 

“Shut that pretty little mouth of yours,” Harry responds, a sweat breaking out all over his body from exertion. He knows Louis. He knows Louis hasn’t slipped far enough to take his warning, and that is why he said it. Even if Louis is in subspace, he doesn’t usually keep completely quiet. The man likes to talk. It is not nearly as bad as it used to be when they first began this type of play. Harry had to gag him almost every time just to get him to stay quiet. He has calmed down some as he has gotten older, but some things never change.

“Oh God. Right there. Fuck. Please. Right there,” Louis breaths, his eyes rolling back into his head. Harry tightens his hand, his fingers applying pressure to the larynx and not the hyoid. Louis chokes on his words, attempting to breath in air, but Harry won’t allow it. Breath play is probably the most dangerous thing you could do, but they both love it. Harry is careful, counting to ten then releasing his hold, keeping his hand on the area. Louis takes in a deep breath, moaning as soon as he can as Harry continues to fuck him.  

“Fuck, Daddy. Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Pl…” His words are cut off by Harry’s hand again, squeezing the same spot. Louis gasp for air, and Harry quickens his pace, fucking into Louis harder. Getting closer and closer to the edge. He doesn't forget to count though. Never forgets to count. 

“I told you to shut the fuck up,” Harry growls directly into Louis’ ear, the threat making Louis’ skin erupt in chill bumps. He squeezes Louis’ arse, making Louis choke out another moan, telling him he needs to apply a bit more pressure. Harry releases his hold after ten, moving his hand down to Louis’ chest, resting it on the script inscribed on his collarbones, feeling for his breathing to stabilise. 

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Fuck,” Louis curses, his voice wrecked now from his tears and the choking. It seems he didn’t learn his lesson because he is still fucking talking. Harry knows he is close though. He can feel it by the way Louis’ legs are twitching while they are locked around his hips. He can tell by Louis’ hole squeezing his cock like a vice. Louis is so fucking close, and Harry just needs to push a little further for both of their releases. 

“Want my come in you? Want my come in that pretty little arse of yours. The one I ruined with your braces?” Harry asks, squeezing Louis throat again, his fingers flexing under his rings, the veins in his hands bulging with effort. He watches a tear fall down Louis’ cheek when he gets to five, his mouth open as he tries to breath. His hands are tied, but Louis has a signal if this is ever too much. He hasn’t done it yet, so Harry trust that everything is okay. He feels like he is counting down to their orgasm, the numbers in his head pushing him closer. At his silent one, Louis comes. Harry immediately releases his hold, his hips now moving so fast he doesn’t have much control. 

Louis’ hot come coats their stomachs and chests, splattering white on their tattoos. The sight sends Harry hurdling over the edge, emptying himself into Louis’ waiting heat. He groans with his release, the sound mingling with Louis’ screams of pleasure. After Louis is finished coming he is completely pliant now, all of his weight in Harry’s arms. Harry’s heart feel so big, it may burst with adoration. Louis trusting him so much with this. Harry doesn’t even take a second to come down, not even worried about himself. He reaches up with one hand, supporting Louis’ body with the other as he carefully unhooks Louis wrists while murmuring praises in his ear. 

He continues praising him, petting his hair and back, any part of his skin he can reach as he carries Louis to their bed. He sits him feet first, carefully removing the braces and placing them on the bed. He rubs a thumb over the marks the left behind, bringing them to his lips and kissing them. Louis sighs, smiling at Harry serenely. He then gently pushes him so that Louis is laying face down on the bed, wanting to put some cream on Louis’ angry bum. He reaches for Louis’ favourite kind and lays down on the bed beside of him. Louis makes a sound of contentment, leaning into Harry’s warmth. He knows how much Louis needs to be touched while he is in subspace, how much attention he needs. 

“You did so good, baby. So very good for me. I’m so proud of you. I’m gonna take care of you now, okay, baby? Put some cream on that perfect bum of yours.” Louis just nods, his eyes unfocused as he gives Harry a satisfied smile. Harry smiles back at him, using a finger to move Louis’ soft fringe from his eyes. His hair has gotten so long. Harry just cut his recently, wanting it short for the Met Gala. He is still nervous about his outfit, but Louis assures him it looks lovely. He pushes that thought aside, squeezing some of the substance on his fingertips. He rubs his hands together, trying to warm it up a bit. 

He moves so that he is on his knees, kneeling next to Louis. He takes a moment just to admire the lovely sight before him. The welts are red and raised, almost angry in appearance. Under them, Harry can still see the outline of his hand print, the penguin tattoo peeking through the red mark. His favourite part is on Louis’ right cheek, his initials. They are still red, and Harry knows they are going to bruise. Louis is going to be branded with ‘H’ and ‘S’ for days to come, every time he sits he will be reminding of who he belongs to. Harry shivers, shaking his head to snap out of it. He continues whispering praises to Louis as he gently rubs the cream into Louis’ arse, the skin hot to the touch. 

After he feels like he has rubbed a substantial amount into Louis’ skin, he rolls Louis onto his side, and cuddles him close. He grabs a water bottle and the strawberries he had laid there before Louis even came home. He makes Louis drink half the bottle, not wanting him to be dehydrated after so many tears, feeding him strawberries in between drinks. He grabs the braces, draping them over Louis shoulders so they are just laying along his pecks, perfect and beautiful. 

“I need a fag,” Louis mumbles into Harry skin a few minutes later, his breath hot, tickling Harry a bit. Harry can’t stop the chuckle that tumbles out of his chest, his body shaking with it. 

“There you are,” Harry responds on a laugh, looking down to find Louis’ eyes on him, peering at him through his fringe. Louis always wants a fag after this, it is the first sign that he is somewhat back on earth. Harry reaches for the pack that is also on the table, carefully placing the filter between Louis’ lips. He lights the tip moments later, watching the red at the end spark to life as Louis inhales. Louis rolls over on his back, staring up at the ceiling as he takes a few drags, the room filling with the familiar smell of smoke. 

“I love braces, Haz, and I love you,” Louis says, moving his hand so that his thumb is hooked under the dark red braces, the now mostly ash fag perched between his dainty fingers, the veins popping out making Harry want to trace them with a pointed tongue. Harry blinks, snapping out of his fantasy to smile at Louis who has rolled his head to look at Harry. 

“I knew I would make you see the error in your viewpoint,” Harry laughs when Louis smacks him with his free hand, then brings the fag to his lips, taking a final drag. Harry leans into kiss him, taking the smoke from Louis’ lungs into his own. “I love you, too, baby,” Harry responds, the light smoke leaving his lungs and falling onto Louis’ lips. He take the fag from Louis’ hand, placing it in the ashtray they keep beside the bed. He switches off the light, then pulls Louis close, deciding that they need a nap. Louis looks sleepy anyway, still pliant, soft and cuddly. Harry wraps his large body around Louis, listening as his breaths becomes even. Harry lets the sound lull him to sleep as it has done many times before. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments always welcome!  
> Feel free to follow me on my social media  
> Twitter: @Wicked_Archer  
> Tumblr: wicked-archer


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